


Rewind (helpless)

by elarielf



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: About to become an AU with MAG 189, Accidental Voyeurism, Beholding, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, M/M, Martin POV, Ritual Sex, Saving the World, The Lonely - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:02:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27719278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elarielf/pseuds/elarielf
Summary: Jon has a plan. Elias has a plan. Martin doesn't have a plan, but he doesn't like Jon's and he REALLY doesn't like Elias's. Fortunately, he's decent at improvising, and he and Jon trust each other. They just have to keep reminding themselves of that, and Elias doesn't make it easy for themOr, that thing that you finish the day before new canon completely contradicts everything. Hopefully.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	Rewind (helpless)

London is unpleasant and unfriendly. The Eyes follow them everywhere they go, and Martin knows there’s more around than he even sees. It’s not just the cameras and CCTV, it’s the people, the animals, even the bugs are watching them.

They’re watching everything else, too. They’re even watching each other. Martin can feel his skin crawling with all the eyes on him. It’s almost worse that they seem non-judgmental, as if they’re just watching with no opinion or life of their own, completely disinterested. He could keep walking or he could shout or dance or strip or murder someone and they’d all just keep watching him do it.

Jon seems unbothered. Somehow that makes things worse.

The Institute is no reprieve. There’s nothing there to watch them, no people or animals, no electronic surveillance, not even any bugs. But they’re being watched anyway. If surprise was part of Jon’s plan, it’s not going to go well for them.

They head to the archive, through the tunnels, into the Panopticon. Jon Knows the way, of course, but with Helen dead even Martin could figure it out using a mental map and his previous visit. It’s anticlimactic, walking into the Panopticon and seeing Elias there, waiting for them. Martin is beginning to feel like an extra in a movie who wasn’t given a script or plot outline and told to look unsettled.

He feels like he’d be nailing it, if he had been.

Elias doesn’t even look at him. “Hello, Jon.” Jon doesn’t answer, and after a moment, Elias sighs. “And you too, Martin.”

Jon inclines his head. “Elias.”

“I’m glad you’ve finally arrived,” Elias says. “My original plan had been for you to be in the Institute when you summoned… well, _everything_ , but so much has changed since those plans were made.” He smiles at Martin. “You got yourself a pet, for one.”

Jon makes a sound that, while soft, is undeniably angry and takes a step forward. And falls to one knee.

Martin isn’t prepared for the tangy scent of blood to hit his nostrils, or to watch it pool under Jon’s leg. The leg that Daisy had injured. He’s frozen in place, the surprise taking away his ability to react even though Jon is less than a step away.

“The Eye giveth and the Eye taketh away,” Elias says, clucking his tongue and moving forward. “All that power, and you still managed to acquire a near-mortal injury. Only you, Jon…” Elias grabs Jon’s hair and forces his head up. “Only you would let yourself get hurt for _sentiment._ ” His free hand does something quick and frees his cock. Martin barely catches a glimpse of it before it’s in Jon’s mouth, Elias forcing it down Jon’s throat. “It’s that vulnerability that made you so enticing to the other powers. I just had to offer you up, and they took whatever they could get.” Elias pushes deeper and Jon chokes a little, drool seeping out of the edges of his lips as Elias continues to monologue as he fucks Jon’s face. “Not that I blame them.” Elias chuckles and his grip in Jon’s hair relaxes, his hand sliding back to cup Jon’s head as he continues to thrust. “The _satisfaction_ of watching you squirm, of seeing all your unearned arrogance melt away until all that was left was fear or pain… I enjoyed watching it every bit as much as they enjoyed inflicting it.” His thrusts pick up speed. “And I’m enjoying watching you now. You had some idea, didn’t you, of compelling me, getting me to answer to your questions.” Another chuckle, this one slightly strained. “Well, it must be difficult to compel someone with their prick in the way, isn’t it? A weakness in your technique, I suppose.” Jon makes a small sound at that and Elias bites his lip and moans as he thrusts once more and stops. There’s a moment and then Jon’s throat works, trying to swallow. Elias makes a satisfied sound and slips free, tucking himself back in.

He turns to Martin, mild smile on his face, only a slight flush to indicate that anything had happened. “Take care of him for me, Martin. The Institute is as you left it, your old room in the archives as well.”

Martin stares at him. “You just–”

“Yes?” Elias says, daring Martin to put into words what he just saw. “Jon will want time to process what has happened,” he continues, when it’s clear Martin isn’t going to add anything else. “Lying down on a bed is as good a place as any.” He turns away, and Martin feels dismissed, even though he can still feel The Eye’s attention on him. And on Jon.

Jon is still kneeling, still bloody. Martin helps him up, guides him out of the maze of tunnels, and into the room that Martin used when hiding from Jane Prentiss. The bed and small table are just as he remembers them, small comforts. Martin is fond of small comforts. He sits Jon down on the bed and pulls his trousers down. There’s too much blood to tell for sure, and it’s caked on pretty thick in parts, but Martin doesn’t think Jon is still bleeding. He takes off Jon’s shoes and socks as well as the trousers and goes to get something to wash the blood off with.

At no point during the trip through the tunnels or stripping Jon’s trousers and shoes off did Jon show any kind of reaction. He moved when Martin moved him, and stayed in place, but his eyes stared straight ahead, his lips slightly parted. Martin puts the kettle on out of habit as he rummages around the kitchen for a basin and cloth. He takes two cloths after a moment’s thought, remembering the sticky streaks on Jon’s face. The kettle boils as he finishes filling up the basin and he starts the tea seeping, setting up the large tray with the basin, two cloths, the teapot, and two cups.

“Yup,” Martin mutters to himself as he gathers it up. “This is what you’re good for.”

Jon hasn’t moved. Martin washes his face first, as gently as he can, before setting the basin under Jon’s foot and washing the leg. The skin is unbroken and unscarred, and the biggest issue is the leg hairs matted with his blood. It takes a few passes and some scrubbing before Jon’s leg is wet but clean.

“I’ve made some tea,” Martin says, the words coming easily. It might be the easiest sentence in the English language for him to say. Jon doesn’t react. Martin pours a cup and presses it into Jon’s hand. Jon takes it, but doesn’t drink. Martin sighs.

“Alright. We can talk later if you want to.” Those words come harder. After everything they’ve been through, Martin doesn’t think this will break Jon, but he’s willing to take things at Jon’s speed. He’s used to that.

Jon settles easily into bed after Martin takes the tea away. Martin drinks his own tea, then Jon’s, then crawls into bed beside him. It doesn’t remind him at all of the comfort in Salesa’s hidden away manor, but it’s nice in its own way. He can’t sleep, of course, but he can feel Jon’s body beside his as he lets his mind wander. The room is sealed, but there’s a window, and the passage of time can be marked by the alternating cycles of light and dark. It’s two full cycles before Jon stirs.

“Jon?” Martin sits up, alert. “Jon, are you–”

“Fine, I think,” Jon says softly. He sits up as well and his eyes focus on Martin’s. “That was… a lot.”

Martin hadn’t been thinking about what had happened, but he is now. “Can we kill him?”

“No. Not yet. There’s still…” He trails off and his eyes go unfocused, his mouth slack. Martin waits a while, then gently lays Jon back down and snuggles up to him again. That wasn’t quite a trauma reaction, at least not one that Martin had ever heard about. He’s beginning to suspect this is more Eye stuff.

Another two days go by. Martin makes and drinks enough tea to force his body to go to the bathroom. It’s an odd novelty, and he doesn’t dislike it. He’s restless this time, and spends perhaps half his time in bed with Jon and half his time going through the Institute. His old office, with no decorations or distractions, is still there, as boring and lonely as ever. Peter’s office is too, and it’s still clearly Peter’s. Elias likely hasn’t stepped foot in it since sending Jon the statement that ended the world. The archive is unchanged, full of statements that are now meaningless as the entire world is nothing more than a series of statements. Martin pauses outside the artefact storage room and decides against it. Not until Jon is better, at least.

Jon is better the next day. Still somewhat vague and prone to drifting off, but more present than not. Martin, naturally, makes them some tea and sits Jon down at the kitchen table. “What now?”

Jon drinks the tea and that is amazingly gratifying. “I’m still… processing,” Jon says.

Elias had used that word as well. “Processing what?” Martin asks.

“I’m not sure what I was expecting from Elias when we found him,” Jon explains. “Some form of attack, or something to weaken me, not…”

“Not that,” Martin says, nodding in understanding. Jon had issues about sex and issues about his issues. Martin had been very careful with him and his boundaries, and for Elias to just do something like _that_. Well, it must have been a shock.

Jon looks into his tea. “No, nothing like that. I already feel the effects of it, and I’m still not finished dealing with it. When I am, I think I’ll be significantly more powerful than I was before.”

Martin blinks. “Come again?”

“I suppose it makes sense,” Jon continues, as if Martin hadn’t spoken. “He did say I was less of an archivist and more of an _archive_. The more knowledge I have, the more powerful I become. And he needs a place to store his knowledge. It’s why there’s two of us, I suppose…”

“Wait, hold up,” Martin interrupts. “You’re saying what he did to you gave you more power?”

Jon nods. “I think he has to. I think he can see everything, but he can’t hold on to it. We saw in the other world, that he was constantly exasperated that he couldn’t See everything. Well, now he can, with some notable exceptions, but it’s too much. He needs a place to store what he’s Seen so that he’s free to See more.”

“And that place is you.”

“Looks like.”

“And… and the fact that he chose to do it that way…”

Jon shrugs. “Dealer’s choice, I suppose. Either way, if it gets me enough power to stop him, I’d do it again.”

Martin stares at him. “You’re not… disgusted by it?”

“A little,” Jon admits, “I’d rather not, obviously, but there are worse things happening to better people, so…”

“No, I get it.” Martin sighs. “When are we going back?”

“I think I’ll need a few more days.” The small smile on Jon’s face is more apologetic than anything. “I can go alone, if you’d prefer.”

“Absolutely not!” Martin protests. “Who knows what he’d do if I wasn’t there!”

“Probably whatever he’s planning on doing anyway,” Jon says. “He doesn’t seem to mind an audience.”

Martin flushes, half with anger, half with embarrassment. “Well, I’m coming anyways.”

“All right.” Jon’s voice is gentle, and it would have soothed Martin if his eyes hadn’t gone blank immediately after. Martin sighs and tidies up. The tea will get cold, but that’s okay. He’s beginning to realize that the tea isn’t for drinking, it’s for making and holding and cleaning up after. There aren’t a lot of ways to track time, even with the sunrise and sunset breaking up day and night. This ritual helps.

So does the knife Martin grabs from the kitchen when Jon announces they’re returning to Elias. It’s not a butcher knife, but it’s not a paring knife either. Something in-between, small enough to hide but long enough to do some damage. Jon doesn’t comment on it and they travel through the tunnels again.

This time, Elias isn’t alone. Some distance from the bloodstained floor where he had ripped away Jon’s protection and hurt him, is a loveseat. Martin blinks at it, somewhat stupidly. “How did that get in here?” He hadn’t left the archives at any point in the last eight… (nine?) days. Anyone who had wanted to bring something this heavy down here would have had to have made enough noise to alert him.

“It was already here,” Jon answered, moving towards it, leaving Martin behind. “Wasn’t it, Elias?”

“Of course. I’ve planned your return for some time now.” Elias comes from… somewhere, somewhere Martin can’t see, and tumbles elegantly into one of the seats, leaving the other free. “Join me, won’t you?”

Jon is already walking towards him, so the invitation is just Elias being Elias, trying to get under Jon’s skin or assert dominance. Except that Jon doesn’t seem to care, so he must be needling someone else, and Martin’s the only other person present.

It makes sense, except that Elias doesn’t care about Martin one way or another.

Jon stops in front of Elias and hesitates. Elias laughs.

“No, no. No need to seal that mouth of yours shut this time. I believe I’ve already made my point, and I’ve shown there’s nothing I won’t give you freely.” Elias’s smile widens and his eyes glitter. “We’re a team, Jon. You can compel anything you want from me, or you could just ask. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“What do you want?” Jon asks, and there’s no power behind it.

Elias settles back. “Right now? Right now I want you to take off your trousers and pants and sit in my lap.”

Martin can feel the flat of his kitchen blade press against the small of his back where he’d hid it. He decides, in that instant, that if Jon hesitates again, he’s going to use it.

Jon doesn’t hesitate. There’s little ceremony to the way he strips, kicking off his shoes and pulling his pants and socks off with his trousers but, even if it’s utilitarian, it’s prompt enough not to give Martin the excuse he desperately wants.

He drops the pants on his shoes, making a messy little pile and awkwardly lowers himself onto Elias’s lap. Elias adjusts him, turning him with gentle hands and a warm, low voice, and Martin finds himself creeping forward to hear what’s being said.

“-one hand over my shoulder… ah, there you go.” Elias sounds pleased with himself. Martin can’t see it, but he can almost hear the smirk in Elias’s voice. “Lean forward a little, just… that’s right. That’s good.” Jon is sitting with his legs on one side of Elias, his back facing Martin, and one arm braced on the back of the loveseat over Elias’s shoulder. It puts Elias’s face right in the nook between Jon’s neck and shoulder and he takes advantage of it, breathing in the scent that settles there. It’s one of Martin’s favourite places to bury his face when they cuddled. His hands clench into fists and Elias meets his eyes just as he licks a stripe up the side of Jon’s neck and latches on, sucking at the skin just behind his ear. Jon makes a small sound, more surprise than protest, and Martin is almost distracted from Elias’s hand, fishing in the seat for a small tube that he pops open one handed and pours onto his fingers, making them slick and shiny.

The sound Martin makes is almost all protest, but both Elias and Jon seem to ignore it as Elias presses against, then into Jon. Martin can see it, the way Elias’s fingers slip between Jon’s buttocks and then seem to curve as he breaches him. The only sound Jon makes is a heavy, slow exhale, and then nothing. No movement from Elias, no sound from Jon. They are a frozen tableau of something that Martin hadn’t even known to fear. Then Elias speaks.

“The first time was educational. You didn’t know what was on offer, so I showed you. This time, Jon, you’re going to have to ask for it.”

There’s a tense, loaded moment. Then Jon bows his head. “Please.”

“Please what?”

His shirt hides the tension in Jon’s back, but Martin can see it in his thighs. He’s not happy, but that doesn’t stop him from giving Elias what he wants. “Please don’t stop. I need… more. I can feel it, it’s so close, please…”

“…yes?” Elias draws the word out, his hand shifting, and Jon tenses further.

“Please give it to me,” Jon says, his voice small and almost unrecognizable.

Elias chuckles. “Of course.” His hand starts moving again, and Martin can see Jon’s reaction to every move Elias makes; pressing in, twisting, drawing out. Each movement provokes a different set of muscles clenching, a different physical reaction. Elias whispers something in Jon’s ear and Jon’s pleas start again, asking for more, assuring Elias he could handle it, promising he can take everything Elias has to give.

The sound Elias makes at that is at once animalistic and gratified. It shares resonances with large cats after eating a satisfying meal. Martin shudders as Elias withdraws his fingers, still slick and shiny, and pivots Jon until he is sat upon the other cushion, eyes glazed over already.

Elias’s head lolls towards Martin, unfairly graceful. “Hopefully he will recover more quickly this time.”

Martin takes the opportunity to grab Jon’s things and hustle towards the loveseat to grab Jon as well. As he leans to help Jon up, Elias’s hand shoots out and grasps his jaw, turning his face this way and that. He uses the same had that had been inside Jon and the fingers were slippery and uncomfortably warm. Martin freezes, caught between the instinct to run and the impulse to help Jon.

Finally, Elias gives a soft huff and releases him, wiping his fingers on Martin’s shirt as he stands and walks away. Martin allows himself a moment to be grateful for the relatively easy escape and gathers Jon up in his arms.

Jon is cooperative, walking where Martin guides him, and only needing some minimal steering, so Martin has an arm for Jon’s clothes and one to guide him. It’s easier than managing his mum had been.

“Martin,” Elias says, just as Martin and Jon reach the edge of the Panopticon, “feel free to indulge yourself.”

For a moment, Martin feels like he’s being scolded for making tea. “What?”

“Jon is slick and ready, and is hardly capable of resisting right now. I’d be a terrible host if I didn’t offer my guests a taste of what I partake of in front of them.”

Martin feels his stomach churn in disgust. Well. In mostly disgust. He hates that Elias’s words intrigue him, even the tiny amount that they do. He presses Jon forward and doesn’t answer. He’s braced for Elias’s mocking laughter, but it never comes. Martin hates him.

Taking Jon’s trousers off to wash him had been easier than trying to put them back on. Martin gives up after only a few tries and tucks Jon into bed, naked from the waist down. He hesitates, Elias’s mocking words ringing in his ears, but in the end he decides to do what he would have done if Elias hadn’t decided to be a prick. He snuggles next to Jon, wrapping Jon’s arm around him, and tries to relax.

It’s less than a day before Jon revives into the half-awake state that could lead to him drifting off at any moment. He smiles at Martin, as if they have a secret, as if what happened had been just what they’d wanted. Martin wants to scream, but he can’t be angry on Jon’s behalf if Jon isn’t. That isn’t fair. And if Martin isn’t angry _for_ Jon, then he’s worried a part of him is angry _at_ Jon for what happened, and that’s _really_ not fair.

He loves this man, and he’s going to show it in the most natural and honest way possible.

“Tea?”

“That would be nice,” Jon says. Martin, half-resigned to the idea of the tea going to waste if Jon’s brain decides to start buffering again, gets up and puts the kettle on.

He finds Jon at a window, looking out onto the street. The mechanical spies are out en force, watching everyone and everything. They watch Jon and, as Martin approaches to hand him his tea, they watch Martin as well.

“Not planning on putting anything on?” Martin asked, trying to keep his tone playful. He mostly succeeds. Jon looks _amazing_ in just his shirt.

Jon smiles and takes a sip. “What’s the point? The temperature is always perfect, and who would I be hiding from?” His eyes are focused on Martin, but the way tired children focus their eyes, with willpower, fighting against the urge to drift off. Martin sighs and turns to leave, not wanting to watch Jon leave him to _process_ whatever Elias gave him.

He’s stopped by a gentle hand on his shoulder, turning him back to face Jon, pulling him in close for a kiss. Through the window, the many eyes of The Eye watch as Martin bends down and lets Jon kiss him. “What was that for?”

“I just wanted to,” Jon says. “Hiding solves nothing, especially here. And I wouldn’t want to hide this even if it did.”

They’re not the perfect words, not the words Martin is longing to hear. But they’re as nice as they could be, given the circumstances, and Martin is grateful to hear them. The eyes are still watching them, but Jon is looking at him and he tastes like the tea Martin made for him and he’s only wearing a shirt for goodness sakes, and Martin is merely human.

Well. Mostly human. He wraps an arm around Jon’s waist and pulls him in for another kiss. Jon’s free hand cups the back of his neck, threading through his hair and he kisses back with all the warmth and affection Martin could ask for. They hadn’t had a lot of time since the cabin for anything like this, and Martin was surprised at how _much_ he wants it. It used to be that a kind (or even just not unkind) word from Jon could sustain him for weeks. Now, he feels deprived because they hadn’t had time for make-outs during their flight through the varied hellscapes of this new world.

He’s careful, though. He presses close to Jon, but angles himself so that his hip is pressed against Jon, rather than his pelvis. He knows Jon doesn’t mind, Jon had told him so on the multiple occasions they’d woken up to Martin’s morning wood poking at various parts of Jon’s anatomy. Still, Jon certainly doesn’t like it, and Martin wants Jon to like this. To like him. He takes the opportunity to gauge Jon’s interest as they kiss, pressing lightly against Jon’s groin in a move he could bluff off as an accident.

Nothing. There never was anything, but Martin still finds himself disappointed. He’d thought that maybe, after what Elias had subjected him to, maybe Jon would…

Martin pulls away and searches Jon’s face for any sign of dissatisfaction or discomfort. There’s nothing but contentment and love and the mild vagueness that promised a glassy-eyed archivist in the near future. He kisses Jon’s cheek and pulls away.

“I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Jon nods, already turning to look out the window. Maybe the myriad of eyes on him help. Martin doesn’t know and, right at this moment, he doesn’t care. Even if the privacy is an illusion, he heads for the bathroom before masturbating.

The tea is cold by the time he’s done.

He fetches Jon’s cup out of his hand and tidies up. They’ve, well, Martin has, gone through nearly half the tea reserves. There are biscuits, but those don’t appeal now that Martin doesn’t have an appetite. You don’t have to be hungry or thirsty to want tea. There’s some instant coffee and Martin considers chucking it in the bin. They don’t need sleep, so Jon will never again be so fatigued that he needs stimulation badly enough to waste boiling water on that.

From behind him, Jon reaches and plucks the instant coffee out of Martin’s hands, contemplating it for a moment before tossing it in the bin. Martin grins.

“That was quick.”

“I think it was easier this time,” Jon says. “Still powerful, still worth it, but… easier to…”

“Process,” Martin says sourly. “It’s how Elias described it, in any case.”

“I know,” Jon says simply. “I know everything he said to you.”

Martin flushes. “He’s an ass.”

“He certainly is.” Jon sidles up to Martin and they stand side by side, shoulders touching. “I trust you implicitly, you know.”

Martin thinks about the conversation he had with his other self in his domain. “Have you thought about it?” he asks Jon, knowing Jon will understand the seeming non sequitor. “The price of ending this?”

Jon nods. “Of course.”

“I won’t let you die,” Martin says, and his voice is strong. He looks straight ahead, barely seeing Jon out of the corner of his eye. “If that’s the price, then I’m not willing to pay it.”

“It’s not,” Jon says gently. “If everything goes according to plan, we’ll both survive.”

“Together?” Martin asks because he’s greedy, and Jon’s silence is answer enough. “So you’ll survive, just in a weird untouchable stasis thing as punishment or something, am I right?”

“Not quite,” Jon says. “And, remember, I’m assuming everything goes to plan.”

“Has it? So far?” Martin demands.

Jon snorts, and it’s undignified enough that Martin turns towards him. Jon’s smiling, but it’s the same twisted smile he wore when Martin congratulated him on killing another monster. “Not at all.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“We could just stay here. Ignore all the suffering as we feed off it. Just accept that this is the world now, and you win some you lose some, but such is life.”

“Don’t be an idiot. I just…”

“I know.” Jon leans against Martin, resting his head on Martin’s shoulder. It’s a comfort, but doesn’t actually fix any of this. “It’s a lot to ask, but can you trust me that I’ll do everything I can to keep both of us as safe as possible?”

There are a lot of qualifiers in that question, and no actual promises. “Yes,” Martin says anyway.

“Thank you,” Jon says, which is better than his constant apologies, at least.

He’s in and out over the next few days, and Martin doesn’t push him. They’re lying in bed when Jon turns to Martin, his eyes focused and steady, and says, “I can See Georgie and Melanie.”

“What, really?” Martin sits up, suddenly antsy – are they going to go rescue them? “Where?”

“Surprisingly close,” Jon says. “They’re protected, through. Melanie cut off all links to Beholding before this started, and that’s keeping her safe and Georgie is immune to fear in general and is doing just a fantastic job at hiding them from surveillance.”

“So how can you See them?”

Jon sighs. “Elias always could. The Eye Sees All. They’re hard, though. It’s like I wouldn’t have noticed them if I hadn’t been looking, and I couldn’t See them at all until Elias gave me this last power boost.”

“So Seeing and Noticing are two different things, like Knowing and Understanding,” Martin says. “What do we do about this?”

Jon hesitates, then shrugs. “Nothing. They’re as safe as they can be in this world, and anything we do will only draw attention to them. If we succeed and save the world, maybe we can see them then.”

“Ooh,” Martin says, only half joking. “Incentive.”

Jon looks away. “Indeed. And on that note…”

Martin groans. “We’re going back to see Elias, aren’t we?”

Jon opens his mouth, and Martin is almost completely sure he’s going to offer to go alone again, but he pauses and then… doesn’t. “Yes. It’s time.”

Martin feels a little foolish bringing the knife again. Daisy was able to hurt Jon because Jon had been scared of her. Elias wasn’t scared of Martin. A knife would be as much use a as a spoon. But it’s a gesture, a sort of unspoken threat, and the only objection Martin is free to make, so the knife comes.

The bloodstain and loveseat are still there, but so is a desk.

It’s not Elias’s desk, or Jon’s, but it reminds Martin of both, somehow. Elias is leaning against it and stands as Jon approaches, as if he’d been waiting for him for a meeting or a performance review or… something.

“Impatient, are we?” Elias says. “Not even a week and you’re back for more.”

“Yes,” Jon says, and his head is unbowed and his voice is even and Martin is so proud of him.

Elias hums, sounding pleased himself. “Let’s get started, then.” Rather than telling Jon what to do, he reaches out and pulls Jon towards him by the front of Jon’s shirt. Jon goes willingly, and doesn’t flinch when Elias unbuttons his trousers and pulls them down to his knees. His back is facing Martin again, and once again Martin has a lovely view of his buttocks and thighs, something that had excited him days before and now just turns his stomach.

Still it is, objectively, hot when Elias bends Jon over the desk and nudges his legs open. Jon is tall enough that, even slightly spread, his arse is the highest part of his body, arching up from a bent and beautifully curved spine. Martin’s mouth is dry, and he pretends that it’s all fear, a pretense that becomes more true as the lube that Elias had used before comes out.

“I want you to remember, Jon,” Elias says as he prepares him, slicking and stretching Jon’s arse, then his own cock, “that you came to me. Again. That you asked for this.” He lines himself up and there’s a grunt from Jon as he pushes in. “That you wanted this.”

Jon doesn’t reply, but he makes another noise as Elias pulls back and then thrusts in again. He doesn’t sound pained or, thank goodness, aroused. He just sounds like the movements are forcing air out of his lungs. He’d sound the same if someone was pressing on his abdomen. So why is Martin so flushed and uncomfortable just from hearing him?

Elias settles into a rhythm, and Martin feels his pulse racing to the same beat. The sounds Jon’s making haven’t changed, and Martin finds himself moving closer, changing his angle so that Elias isn’t blocking his view, so that he can see Jon bent over the desk, his elbows taking most of his weight, rocking forward with every thrust from Elias.

His hand is blocking most of his face, but from what Martin can see his expression is one of concentration. He wanted this, he asked for it, yes. But he is using it as a means to an end. He isn’t enjoying it.

Elias is. He bends over, one hand fisting in Jon’s hair and forcing Jon’s head up, so that he can continue to fuck him while he whispers to him. Martin moves closer, close enough to hear Elias’s soft, smooth voice murmuring into Jon’s ear.

“It’s not like you never gave me an excuse,” Elias hisses, and Martin can feel the hackles on his neck rise. “Being rude to clients, stalking your employees, and being, quite frankly, incompetent at your job. I could have had you like this days after you thanked me for the opportunity and then almost immediately proved yourself unworthy of it. If I’d come to you and told you this was the only way you could keep your position, you would have spread for me as easily as you are now. It’s one of the reasons I chose you, Jon. So desperate to be _good_ at something that you ignored how truly unsuited you were to be the head archivist. Tim knew. Sasha, obviously, knew. I should have chosen her, but she would never have bent over for me, she would never have been so desperate that she would have done anything like you would. Like you are.” The sound of a slap and a different, surprised grunt from Jon breaks the rhythm of Elias’s words. Elias laughs softly, and slaps Jon’s arse again. “And you’ll come back to me, again and again, no matter what I do to you, won’t you, _archivist_?”

At the last word, Elias’s hips thrust forward and still. There’s a moment of silence; the sound of flesh moving against flesh, the heaviness of Elias’s and Jon’s breathing, everything just stopping for a brief second, maybe less. Then Elias gives a shuddering sigh and pulls out, taking a moment to admire the redness where he struck Jon and the tracks of semen leaking down the back of Jon’s legs.

“Just lovely,” Elias murmurs. He rubs a hand over Jon’s buttock and the skin looks normal again. “Pity that none of my marks last. The price of durability, I suppose.” He turns around, a light frown marring his features. “Martin?”

Martin’s standing barely an arm’s length away. And Elias can See anything. How can he not…

Martin takes a few steps back. “I’m here,” he says softly.

Elias’s frown turns into a pleased smile, and he unhurriedly tucks himself back into his pants.

“I’m done here. You can take Jon now, unless…” His smile widens. “Unless you wanted a turn.”

“He knows what you say to me,” Martin says. His voice is small. It always is when he’s been too close to The Lonely. “Neither of us are impressed.”

“I shall endeavour to live without your esteem,” Elias says lightly. “What doesn’t impress me, is that you let me deflower your boyfriend. You’ve had ample opportunities before now and he still came to me pristine, untouched. Beholding isn’t interested in virgin sacrifices, per se, and this would have been just as satisfying if you’d taken a ride beforehand.”

Elias had told Martin that his mother hated him because he looked like his father. But at least he’d been cruel when he’d said that. This isn’t cruelty. Elias isn’t even really trying to hurt him. This is just him… making conversation.

“It’s none of your business,” Martin says, and his anger makes his voice stronger, more normal.

Elias’s laugh is also not cruel. It’s bright and amused, inviting others to join in on the joke. “Not yet.” He gives Jon’s arse a few cheerful taps and saunters off. “I’ll see you soon, if you can’t manage to talk him out of coming back to me. Take care.”

It’s the first time Elias has spoken to Martin as if he’s something more than a tool to maintain Jon between sessions. Martin wishes he could go back to being seen as that tool.

There aren’t any cloths around, so Martin cleans Jon with the sleeve of his shirt before pulling his trousers back on. He can wash the shirt in the sink later. They head back to the bed and Martin decides laundry can wait. He leaves his shirt on the floor and holds Jon in his arms, resting Jon’s head against his heart. He doesn’t want to think about what Elias had said, or about what he’d done. Jon was okay with this. That was what mattered. He thought it was worth it.

Martin kisses the top of Jon’s head and silently disagrees. This sucks. Elias sucks. And Martin could have killed him, with Peter. Elias had bet on his humanity and won. Martin could kill him now, if given the chance. Did that mean he was less human, or had Elias just become so much worse that there wasn’t even a question in Martin’s mind. Probably both.

He considers trying, as Elias had suggested, talking Jon out of going back. He knew he wouldn’t, knew he _couldn’t_ , but it was nice to fantasize. Maybe they could change plans. Daisy had hurt Jon because he was scared of her, because she’d hurt and frightened him before. Was Elias frightened of anyone? Did he even know anyone, outside of the Institute? He’d had family, but Martin had been Peter’s assistant and had access to employment records that had shown that Elias worked through the holidays, and didn’t have anyone else on his health insurance.

The Institute is just as they’d left it, isn’t it? All the files and documents still intact? Martin gives Jon another hair kiss and then carefully extracts himself and heads towards his office. Then Peter’s. All the information is there, but it isn’t helpful. Elias doesn’t even have a listed next of kin on his life insurance.

Of course. Martin feels like an idiot for forgetting that Elias isn’t Elias. After he became Jonah, surely all his previous connections had been severed, except with the Institute. Maybe there’s a Lucas out there who had intimidated him, but they likely all have their own domains and won’t be interested in losing that power to take Elias down.

A dead end. Disappointed, Martin goes and makes some tea. They’re really running low. He makes two cups and feels like an idiot again.

Still, the time alone and the bit of research were grounding. Jon doesn’t get anything out of Martin holding him during his episodes and Martin needs alone time. Maybe he’d go shopping or something.

“Is the tea still warm?” Jon asks, padding to the kitchen in socks. Martin nods and Jon takes his cup and sips, sighing contentedly. Martin feels himself falling in love again.

Still holding the tea up to his face, Jon smiles. “Is this revenge for the day I wasn’t wearing any slacks?”

“What? Oh!” Martin had forgotten to put a shirt on. Like Jon had said, the temperature was always perfect and he hadn’t thought of it, rushing as he was to try to find a weakness in Elias. “N-no, I just…”

“I’m hardly complaining,” Jon says, still smiling over his tea. He takes another sip, but his eyes don’t leave Martin’s, save to slowly and blatantly look him up and down.

Martin’s blushing. He can feel the heat of it in his cheeks and he usually hates it, but somehow now it feels kind of… good? “Jon,” he says, the hint of a whine in his voice.

“Sorry,” Jon says, clearly not sorry. “But I wasn’t the one who decided to strut around showing off my broad shoulders like that.”

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that Jon likes him and likes how he looks and likes kissing, but doesn’t want… Martin suppresses that line of thought as viciously as he can. “I didn’t expect you up so soon.”

“I’ll likely drift off again soon,” Jon says. “But you weren’t there, and I… worried.”

“You can See everything,” Martin says, a bit miffed. “You could have Seen that I was fine.”

“You know I try not to, with you,” Jon reminds him. “I can leave you alone, if that’s what you need.”

No. The bit of alone time Martin had used to find out nothing useful about Elias had been enough. “It’s fine. I was actually planning on going shopping.”

Jon laughs. “Shopping isn’t exactly…” His humour fades. “No one needs to eat or drink or work. Shopping now is more like looting. We’ll walk into whatever store we decide to visit and take what we need. If this world persists, we’ll eventually run out of things to take, but hopefully it won’t last that long.”

Martin hates this world. “Then you’re taking me to a high-end department store. No Tesco bargain bin looting for us!”

They’re within walking distance of a Sainsbury. Well, after Scotland, they’re in walking distance to everything that doesn’t have an ocean in the way, but they make it to the store within an hour. Martin has a list. Jon has another, different, list.

The people they see, the victims, are… interesting. They are all obviously aware and afraid of the surveillance, but they show it in very different ways. There are people in high-collared trench coats and wide-brimmed hats, more conspicuous than they would be if they weren’t trying to hide. There are people dressed in office chic, looking like they have a purpose, like they belong, when Martin knows no one has a purpose anymore, other than as food for The Eye. There are people in loud, ugly clothes, proclaiming their presence, their heads held high, their hands trembling with the fear that they try to hide by being visible enough that they can almost fool themselves into thinking they choose to be watched. To be seen.

Martin and Jon look… normal. Jon moves with the same confidence he’d always had, and Martin follows like he always had, and they draw attention by simply being normal in the midst of so many people pretending to be normal. Jon doesn’t seem to mind, although he does clearly notice. Martin minds a little, but it’s better than being buried or on fire, so there’s that.

What he minds more are the people who aren’t the victims. The people-shaped instruments of Beholding. They’re not avatars, not like Jon is, or servants of The Eye like Martin is a servant of The Lonely, they’re just tools. They watch from behind newspapers and in shaded corners and alleyways. They can come in pairs, one keeping watch, the other whispering frantically to the other until they switch. They mutter into mobile phones and jot things down and Martin tries not to look at them directly, as if ignoring them would make them ignore him.

They don’t, and Martin feels their gazes on him, raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

“They’re not going to hurt you,” Jon says, trying for comforting and barely managing matter-of-fact. “Even if you weren’t under my protection, they’re not there to hurt anyone. They just watch.”

“They’re creepy.”

Jon inclines his head. “True. But they’re safe.”

That… helps. A little. Still, by the time they get to the store, Martin has had enough of being stared at, and the security cameras greeting them is almost more than he can take. He groans aloud.

“Here.” Jon doesn’t do anything, but the cameras all swivel away, watching something that isn’t Martin. “Is that better?”

The Eye could still See them. Privacy isn’t a real thing in this world. Still… “Yeah. Much better. Thanks.”

Martin picks up the tea and indulges in a new kettle. He likes the teapot at work, stained and seasoned with years of holding tea for the crazy people who decided to catalogue unexplained phenomena, so he doesn’t get a new tea set. He does find some new cutlery, however, charmed by the design on the handle of the teaspoons.

Jon gets Martin a new shirt, then insists he try it on. It’s too small, and Martin suspects Jon knew that when he picked it out. Jon’s smile, amused but appreciative when he comes out of the change room is evidence enough of that. Just for that, Martin keeps it on, but grabs another shirt a size up to change back into once this becomes too uncomfortable.

On their way out, Jon picks up some cleaning supplies. It strikes Martin as odd, but maybe cleaning for Jon is like making tea is for Martin. They walk past a bench, and Jon sits down heavily. They aren’t capable of getting tired, so that worries Martin.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Jon says, and he sounds tired. “I just… feel so at home here. So comfortable. Everything bad that’s ever happened to me has happened because no one could see it happening. I know intellectually that nothing can hurt me in this world, not really, but being here I _believe_ it. I’m safe. I feel safe.”

Martin sits beside him. He knows exactly what Jon means. He felt the same, or at least similarly, in his own domain in The Lonely. “Yeah.”

“…that’s it? No chiding me on how many people are suffering to make this safe place for me? No comment on how _you_ certainly don’t feel safe here? Nothing about Elias?”

“What could I tell you that you don’t already know?” Martin says. “I hate _so much_ about this world, and about this place in particular. You hate it too, even when it’s comforting, because you already know people are suffering and you care about that. You care about me, and you care about how uncomfortable this is making me. You do everything you can to fix it, and it’s not enough, it can’t be, as long as this world exists. You know all that. Do you need me to say it?”

“It helps,” Jon admits. “When you remind me how awful this all is, it helps. I think… I think if you weren’t here, I’d already be in the Panopticon, at Elias’s side, forgetting that my comfort and security was bought by the suffering of billions of people.”

“No. You wouldn’t.” Jon looks away and Martin cups his face, turning it back towards him. “You wouldn’t,” Martin insists. “You were a mess of guilt and shame after this happened, and then you were a force of vengeance and wrath. You were never tempted until you came here, and even now, you’ve been suffering to get the power you need to end it all. You’re strong, Jon. And you’ve never lost your thread of humanity like Elias… like _Jonah_ has.”

“ _You’re_ my thread of humanity,” Jon insists, and Martin can’t stop himself from kissing him. Jon makes a soft noise, completely unlike any of the sounds he makes with Elias, and Martin pulls him into his lap, holding and kissing him as Jon winds his arms around Martin’s neck, kissing back as if his life depended on it. As if his humanity depended on it.

When they part, lips red and breathing heavily, Jon’s eyes are warm and fond, but unfocused. Martin sighs and Jon smiles apologetically. “Sorry.” It’s the last thing he says before he goes slack in Martin’s arms and his mind goes elsewhere. Immediately, the cameras focus back on Martin, their silent regard triumphant.

Martin makes a rude gesture and settles in to wait until Jon comes back to him.

Maybe by then his erection will have died down.

Elias is wrong. Whatever he decides to do with Jon, whatever Jon decides to do with him, he’s wrong about Martin and Jon. What they have works, even if it’s not perfect. Jon made his boundaries and needs clear, and he’s patient with Martin when Martin’s stupid body doesn’t respect those boundaries. Martin can take care of himself, has done so for a _long_ time, and now he’s able to fantasize guilt-free about the man he’s had a crush on for years. They both find the minor inconveniences a small price to pay for being together.

It doesn’t stop Martin from wishing things could be different. That he and Jon could click physically the same way their senses of humour (both terrible) clicked, or their mutual determination to fix the end of the world. While he’s wishing, however, he might as well wish that they were back in the real world, with Tim and Sasha, and Daisy and Basira, and Melanie still had her eyes, and Elias was perpetually kept alive in a vat of acid that corroded away at his skin as quickly as his body could replace it.

Martin sighs happily. That would be nice.

Jon sighs back and snuggles against Martin’s chest. He’s never been slow to wake from these episodes, so Martin knows he’s pretending. Badly. It’s adorable.

He strokes Jon’s hair and waits for Jon to lift his head before ducking to plant another kiss on his lips. The cameras are still watching, but Martin doesn’t care. Jon is in his lap, kissing him, and they’re going to save the world.

But first, they’re going back to Elias.

Martin doesn’t protest. He takes the knife, but he doesn’t protest. He gets a kiss from Jon for his forbearance, which is nice, but he hates that the time between visits are narrowing. It’s been barely four days since their last visit, and Martin has noticed the escalation. He wonders how Elias is going to make things worse this time.

The setting gives Martin no clues. Elias is seated on his old office chair, looking comfortable and confident. Granted, he also has his cock out and his slowly working his hand up and down the shaft, but after fucking Jon over a desk, this seems almost tame.

Jon seems to sense this too, and hesitates. Elias smiles.

“Hello, Jon.” He lets his legs spread a little and sighs happily as he rubs a thumb over the head of his cock. “Welcome back.”

At least he hadn’t said _welcome home_. Jon takes a deep breath and walks towards him.

Elias’s smile widens, predatory. “There are two new twists to our little game. The first is, I want you completely naked. I want to see all of you.”

Jon nods and strips down as perfunctorily as he had in the past. His back, as always, is to Martin, and Martin can see his shoulderblades, his spine, and even some of his ribs. Once the world was back to normal, once they could eat and drink and sleep, he’d get some meat on those bones. Not a lot, Jon’s elegance and his slimness were connected, and Martin loved Jon’s elegance, but enough that he didn’t look like a strong breeze would knock him over. A little bit of happy fat.

Elias seems to disagree, looking altogether too pleased with what he’s seeing. “Perfection.” He releases his prick, which is still standing proud and ready, and hands Jon the lube. “Now, the second twist is that you’ll be doing all the work this time.”

Jon freezes, his muscles tensing, and Elias just smiles and starts slowly working his cock again. “If I finish before you’re ready, you won’t get anything from me today.”

Martin wants to ask if that’s a threat or a promise, but Jon just nods and coats his fingers in the lubricant before reaching behind himself and… oh.

There’s no Elias this time. It’s just Jon, pressing a slick finger, then a second one, into himself, and Martin has a perfect view. He’d thought about it, it was a significant part of several fantasies, and it’s every bit as glorious as he’d imagined.

But it’s not for him. As soon as he thinks he’s ready, sooner than Martin would have allowed if he’d been involved, Jon straddles Elias and sits on his cock.

It’s awkward. Jon has to wriggle to get into a decent position with a good angle, and Elias is guiding his cock by feel. They miss a few times, Elias’s cock leaving shiny streaks on Jon’s buttocks and thighs, before catching. The sound Jon makes as he sinks down isn’t a happy one, but it’s nearly drowned out by Elias’s breathy laughter.

“If you’re wondering what giving up feels like, Jon, it feels like this.” Elias’s hands grip Jon’s hips and, under Elias’s guidance, Jon rises up again to fuck himself on Elias’s cock. His next grunt is less pained, but there’s still no pleasure in it, and his sounds soften as he finds a rhythm, circling his hips to work himself up and down Elias’s cock.

Martin can see everything. The way Jon’s thighs tense as he pushes up and the way his shoulders do as he presses down. The way Elias’s fingers dig into Jon’s skin, the shaft of his cock exposed, then hidden, then exposed by the movements of Jon’s arse. They can’t get tired, Martin remembers through a haze. Jon won’t ever get tired. He can do this for as long as Elias can hold out.

Elias gives another breathy laugh, one hand leaving Jon’s hips to caress his face. “You’re surprisingly good at this, archivist. Who knew you’d find your talent after ending the world?” Jon falters and Elias groans in clear pleasure. When Jon picks up the pace again, Elias starts talking.

“You feel amazing around me. So tight, so warm. You know we can’t see the future, Jon, so I was taking a gamble on this, and I won. Again. You’re _perfect_.” He draws Jon down for a kiss and Martin feels something roaring in his ears when Jon _kisses back_. It doesn’t drown out the sound of fucking, or Jon’s exertional grunts, or Elias’s words. It makes them sharper, clearer. As if there’s nothing in the world but Jon and Elias, fucking, and Martin, watching.

“And so sweet. Has Martin been feeding you tea? How quaint.” Elias releases Jon’s face and Jon leans back, grasping Elias’s shoulders as he changes angles. Elias gasps as Jon takes him deeper and lets of a deep groan. But he doesn’t finish. “That’s right,” Elias says as soon as he has his breath back. “Take everything you need, archivist. It’s yours. It’s _all_ yours, and you?” Elias grips Jon’s hips and slams him down, holding him in place as he arches into him. “You’re _mine_.”

Jon cries out, and it’s not pain or exertion this time. It’s pleasure. Pure, unadulterated pleasure, as Elias fills him.

He collapses against Elias’s chest, panting. Elias doesn’t look for Martin like he did all the other times he was finished with Jon. Instead, he cradles Jon to his chest, and kisses the top and side of his head, his hand smoothing over his hair.

“You did so well,” Elias murmurs. “We’re so close, Jon. You’re almost ready. Soon, my archivist. Soon.”

They looked almost tender like this. Like lovers. Martin looks away and the rest of the room comes back into focus. He doesn’t wait to be called, stepping up to take Jon from Elias.

Elias smiles at him. “You needn’t bother dressing him. The last part of the ritual will be in twenty-four hours.”

Ritual? Martin looks around and sees that the bloodstain, the loveseat, the desk, and the chair are almost all equidistant from each other. Except for a larger gap that could be filled by something at the top of the Panopticon. Something that would make the shape of a pentagram.

“You didn’t seriously think I was doing this for fun, did you?” Elias asks. He chuckles and strokes Jon’s hair. “Well, not entirely for fun.”

“What are you doing?” Martin asks. He can’t compel the truth from Elias. But he can ask.

And Elias is fond of his own voice. “Claiming my archivist,” he says, simply. “Or, rather, my archive. What use is all the knowledge in the world without a repository for it?”

“We’re going to stop you,” Martin says, but he doesn’t sound sure, even to his own ears.

Elias smiles. “My dear Martin, when it comes down to it… you won’t want to.” He kisses Jon tenderly on the head, then passes him into Martin’s arms. “You have one day. Make it count.”

Jon is aware before they leave the tunnels. He’s also still naked. That doesn’t seem to bother him.

Martin doesn’t make tea. “We have to stop this.”

“We’re so close,” Jon says. “Just once more, and I should have everything I need.” He sounds so calm, so reasonable. Martin wants to scream.

“No, _he’ll_ have everything he needs!” Martin says instead, channelling his frustration. “You’ve been falling into his trap and…” Martin laughs, even though it’s not funny. “And he’s not even being subtle! He’s all _come to me Jon_ , and you’re all like, sure, alright. Do you even _have_ a plan?”

“I do.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“ _Why not_?”

“Because you won’t like it.” Jon takes a robe out of one of the shopping bags and puts it on. It’s white and fluffy and too big and it nearly swallows him whole. He looks adorable. He has no _right_ to look adorable right now.

Martin takes a deep breath. He’s not happy with it, but he’s going to have to be the mature one right now. Jon is clearly doing one of his stupid self-sacrificing short-sighted dumb things, and Martin will have to talk him out of it. He needs to be calm, rational.

“I will tie you to a chair before I’ll let him touch you again.” Ooh, not great. Honest, but not great.

Jon just looks at him and sighs. “Martin, if he has my consent, he doesn’t need to touch me.”

“Wh-what? Then why is he…”

“Because it bothers you,” Jon says simply. “Maybe, at first, because he thought it would bother me, but it doesn’t, really.” He looks a little surprised. “I’d thought it would.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Martin asks incredulously. “Being _raped_ doesn’t bother you?”

“That’s not exactly…”

“No, it is. It has to be, because if it isn’t… I can help you get through your trauma. Tea and, and talking and anything you need. I can comfort you, but if it’s not that, if you’re just willingly going along with him, if you’re happy with what he’s doing, if it’s giving you pleasure, then it’s not sex you have a problem with, it’s sex with _me_ , and I…”

“Stop.”

Martin finds himself unable to speak. Jon had never used his voice on him, never commanded him. It doesn’t hurt at all. He hates it.

Jon immediately goes from angry to contrite. “Oh, Martin, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You can talk, I’m so sorry. I…”

“No, I was ranting,” Martin says quietly. He knew he had a tendency to talk too much, and Jon couldn’t exactly order him to make oolong if they didn’t have any.

Jon takes his hands. “You have every right to rant. I just didn’t want to hear it. That doesn’t mean I can shut you up when you’re saying things I don’t want to hear.” He sighs. “I don’t know what to do. I was willing to try…”

“I know.” It had been Martin who had enforced Jon’s boundaries when Jon felt like they weren’t in a _real_ relationship due to his issues. “I don’t want you to try. I want you to want me without trying. Like you seem to want Elias.”

“I don’t want him. His power, yes. But only to destroy him.”

“You seemed to want him just now.”

Jon sighs. “Elias is literally filling me with knowledge every time he fills me with his prick or his fingers. It’s like a crude form of behavioural conditioning; he gives me something I want, through a medium he’s training me to associate with it. The rush of knowledge is… it’s incredible. I can’t even begin to describe it. But the physical aspects are distasteful at best, painful at worst. I’m not saying… I don’t think it would be the same with you. I think, if we _tried_ , we could make something work. But with Elias it’s a necessary evil.”

“We used to call Elias the necessary evil, now it’s just his prick.”

Martin hadn’t meant it to be funny, exactly, but Jon stifles a laugh and Martin reviews what he’d said and gives a grudging chuckle. They both relax.

“I do have a plan,” Jon says softly. “And I plan on us both getting out alive. Isn’t that enough?”

Well, it wasn’t like Martin had any plan other than not following whatever Elias was planning. “I do trust you, Jon.”

He takes the knife anyway. Trust is all very well and good, but backup plans are better.

“You have _got_ to be kidding me,” Martin says as soon as they enter the Panopticon. Their fight is mere hours behind them, and he’s still somewhat on edge.

The bed at the top of the Panopticon merits comment, however. It’s a four-poster bed, with a canopy. If Martin had ever fantasized about a honeymoon, this bed wouldn’t have been out of place. That said, in the middle of a site of power for an evil creature of fear, it looks tacky and out of place.

It completes the pentagram, though, and that’s admittedly more important.

Jon squeezes his shoulder as he walks past, removing the robe and lying down on the bed with his arms above his head and his legs slightly spread.

Elias steps into sight, undoing the buttons on his shirt, clearly pleased with Jon’s compliance. His eyes are on Jon the entire time he takes off his clothes, revealing a surprisingly fit body for someone who sat at a desk all day. He was… attractive, Martin had to admit. Well-proportioned and well-groomed, with good bone structure and distinct, if somewhat soft, musculature. Too bad about the personality.

He settles onto the bed, between Jon’s legs, and starts preparing him. Jon’s eyes are locked on Elias’s, and neither of them speak as Elias shifts to replace his fingers with his cock, entering him in a smooth, easy movement. There’s no noise save for the sound of the sheets against their skin, their bodies moving together, and the soft grunts and sighs with every slow, deep thrust Elias makes.

It’s beautiful. There’s an otherworldliness to their silence, as if they’re speaking with their eyes alone. Jon’s legs seem to cradle Elias and Elias’s thrusts are gentle, rolling pushes. When Jon’s arms come down from above his head and wrap around Elias, pulling him down for a kiss, it seems like the more natural thing in the world.

The static fills Martin’s ears again and the rest of the room, the rest of the world, falls away. Jon’s hips start lifting from the bed, rising to meet Elias’s thrusts and Martin feels a sickening wave of jealousy and fear. Jon is all he has. He’s lost everything else, and he never really had all that much to begin with. If Elias takes him…

“Yes,” Elias whispers into Jon’s lips, the first word either of them have spoken. Jon gives a gasp that’s louder than the others and Elias kisses him again and they’re silent. Except for the sounds of their bodies, their lips, the soft, tremulous gasps and sighs.

The knife is in Martin’s hand and the static is roaring in his ears. He can’t hurt Elias, because Elias doesn’t fear him, doesn’t care about him.

But Jon does.

He can’t lose Jon, but he’s going to, isn’t he? No matter what. Maybe… taking out the archivist would hurt The Eye, wouldn’t it? That would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?

None of those thoughts are Martin’s. They all come from somewhere else, from some _thing_ else. But he hears them.

He can’t kill Jon. Obviously not. Not Jon. But then, why did he bring the knife?

Elias shudders and stills with a groan only slightly louder than his sighs. He pulls out, soft and slick, and Jon’s legs fall open, showcasing his own soft cock and the semen sliding out of his slightly swollen arsehole. The ritual is… over?

Maybe not. Elias sits up, but Jon remains on the bed. Elias looks around, frowning. “Martin?” His eyes pass over Martin, but never focus on him even though Martin could reach out and touch him. Elias blinks and his eyes _change_ and he looks straight at Martin, holding the knife in his hand. “Ah, Martin. There you are.”

Elias stands with the grace of someone who’s just had a good fuck and knows that all is well with the world. “Can’t say I blame you. Must be awfully _lonely_ watching your boyfriend get railed.” The vulgarity contrasts with Elias’s calm tone. “Whatever shall we do about that?”

Martin still has the knife in his hand and the comfort of The Lonely at his back. None of that helps when Elias stands in front of him and undoes his trousers. “Wh-what…”

“You’re going to fuck him now,” Elias says, like a boss who has been nagging his underling to do a task and is done waiting. “This is beyond ridiculous and I’m really not having it any longer. If your silly jealousy is going to bring you to kill him, we’re going to have to get rid of that right away.”

He… he wouldn’t have. The knife clatters to the floor as Martin drops it from nerveless fingers. The Lonely tells him it’s okay, even if he did kill Jon, that wouldn’t have been the end of the world. Might have helped, even. Maybe.

“No, I…”

Elias makes an exasperated noise. “I’m not in the mood for justifications or recriminations. Or apologies, although that wouldn’t go completely amiss… No? Alright. Then fix your mess and fuck your boyfriend.”

Jon is lying on the bed, open and ready. His eyes meet Martin’s and he smiles and reaches out. Martin takes his hand and kneels next to him. “Is this alright?” Martin asks, his voice small and uncertain. “Do you want this?”

“I love you,” Jon says and kisses him. It gives Martin all the information he needs. He stands and straightens his trousers and grabs Elias, dragging him into Martin’s domain.

Normally, that wouldn’t have been possible, but The Lonely had been courting Martin once again since Jon and Elias had started fucking, for lack of a better word. All the reassurances in the world couldn’t convince Martin that he wasn’t about to lose the best thing in his life, and The Lonely _thrived_ on that certainty. Elias had allowed it, for whatever reason, and now the connection is strong enough to take them both from the Panopticon to Martin’s domain.

Elias is furious. “What do you think you’re doing?” The rain makes his skin glisten and the contrast of his warm skin tones with the monochrome of Martin’s domain is stunning. He looks glorious.

“You belong here, in a way.” Martin smiles at him. “You have no one who’ll miss you now that you’re gone. Neither Jonah Magnus nor Elias Bouchard had anyone in the end. The closest thing to a connection you had was Jon, and he’ll be more than happy to forget about you.” The smile fades. “I wasn’t about to let you finish that ritual.”

“The ritual was done,” Elias snarls. “You didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Oh, I think I did,” Martin says, offering Elias a thermos. “Tea?”

Elias bats the thermos out of Martin’s hand. “I was going to give him to you. Mind, soul, and _body_. He would have been yours.”

“And the price?” Martin asks. “Oh, don’t tell me, let me guess. I get to be Jonah Magnus’s new meatsack.”

“How did you… _he_ told you.”

“Doesn’t have to be a prick, you… prick. He managed it with a kiss.” Martin bent down to pick the thermos back up. It was a little dented, but fine.

“It’s not what you think,” Elias says, calming down. “Jonah doesn’t just _take over_. He’s there, but he’s… maybe about 25% of the whole person. Elias is closer to 50%, and the others all have a share in the remaining 25%. I’m still Elias, mostly, but with hundreds of years of experience and some self-confidence and discipline. Imagine Martin Blackwood with some self-confidence and discipline, hmm? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

Martin shrugs. “Maybe. But would it be me?”

“Are you the same person you were when you were six? People evolve. Sometimes they evolve into completely different people. Jon loves you, he’ll still love you.”

“And that’s why you want me. Because you know he’ll never kill me, not even to end this horrific world.”

“Exactly! I get to live without the fear that my archivist will find a way to destroy me and everything I’ve worked so hard to create, and you’ll get _everything_ you want from him.” Elias sighs. “Admittedly, this would have been a better pitch _after_ you’d fucked him, but I’m sure your imagination is up to the task.”

Martin laughs a little. “Yeah, I’ve fucked Jon plenty of times in my imagination.”

“As his equal?” Elias asks, and Martin’s smile fades. “Of course not. He was your boss, then he was a supernatural power, then he ended the world and became one of the two most powerful creatures in existence. And you barely managed to wrangle out a corner of The Lonely.” Elias chuckled. “You never really had much to offer him. Do you ever miss the days when you accepted that? When you kept your head down and quietly daydreamed and never, ever took a risk?”

“No.” Martin hesitates. “Well, yes, because I wasn’t living in a hellscape then, but I don’t miss not having Jon. I love him.”

“And he loves you. But love isn’t always enough, even when you’re both human. And, honestly, both of you passed that threshold before the world even ended. There are other bonds, though. The Eye and The Archivist; Beholding and The Archive. You will know everything, see everything, and you will pass that on to him. And if you chose to do so with you prick, he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m not your enemy, Martin. I’m offering you a chance to be you, only better, and to have something to offer Jon in return for a full relationship. Isn’t that everything you always wanted?”

Martin hesitates, then nods. “Yes. It is. It’s tempting, I have to admit, but I can’t take you up on your offer.”

Elias gives an exasperated sigh. “Why not? What’s holding you back now?”

“The biggest thing is that I’m not exactly Martin? I’m a manifestation of him that manages his domain. Martin left immediately after dropping you off, and I distracted you so you wouldn’t bother Looking for him.” Martin smiles and proffers the thermos again. “Tea?”

By the time Elias’s Eye turns to them again, Martin has wrapped the robe around Jon’s shoulders and Jon’s head is already clearing from the last gift of power that Elias had given him. “It’s enough,” Jon says confidently, ignoring Elias’s Gaze. “We can proceed.” He smiles at Martin. “Thank you for distracting him.”

“My pleasure, I expect,” Martin says, knowing the him in his domain hates Elias as much as he does.

There’s a flash of light and Elias steps out of nowhere, arm extended, pointing straight at Martin. “ ** _Ceaseless Watcher…_** ”

“No.” Jon steps between Elias and Martin as if his physical body could stop anything. It’s not his body, but his power, that protects Martin. “Stop, Elias. It’s over. You’ve given me enough power to tie me to Beholding, to make me your equal. I can stand against you now. You’ve lost.”

“I’ve lost?” Elias laughs. “I have you, I have an otherwise _worthless_ hostage, and I have the full power of Beholding. I haven’t lost, I have everything I need. I’ve only lost the opportunity to be a kind master, rather than a cruel one.”

Martin scoffs. “Kind?”

“Forbearance is its own kindness,” Elias says. “This…” He holds out a hand and an image of Martin’s domain appears. “This is cruelty.” He makes a fist and the domain disappears. Something feels like it’s ripping itself out of Martin’s chest, and he gasps, falling to the floor.

Jon doesn’t turn to him. He faces Elias instead. “The true power of Beholding comes not from just Seeing, it’s also from Knowing. And, thanks to you, I Know everything now, even how to See. And what is an avatar of The Eye without vision?”

Elias is turning to him, ready with some callous retort, but Jon doesn’t give him a chance, and empties the corrosive mixture of cleaning fluids into Elias’s face. He starts healing immediately, but Jon grabs Martin’s knife and follows through, stabbing Elias repeatedly in both eyes until the screaming stops.

The pain in Martin’s chest is gone and he can breathe. “What… how did you…”

“He feared me,” Jon says, his voice dulled. “Come on, we have to move his body.”

They position it seemingly randomly, Jon making adjustments until he’s satisfied. Martin waits until he’s done before asking.

“What now?”

“Now I am the only avatar of The Eye. I’m also the person who started this mess, which means…” Jon screws his eyes shut and the room flickers oddly, like a light bulb threatening to go out. When Martin’s vision clears, he’s sure the room is a little darker, a little damper, and a lot noisier. The blood stain, the bed, the desk, the loveseat, the chair, everything marking the pentagram is gone.

Elias is still dead, lying on the floor, but he’s dressed in the same outfit he had on when he confronted Peter and Martin…

Martin looks around and, sure enough, Jonah Magnus’s body is missing as well. “Where…”

“Not where,” Jon corrects. “When.”

“I _know_ ,” Martin says. “We’re back to the day Peter took me to the Panopticon. What I don’t know is where Jonah’s body is. Or what happened with Elias’s, for that matter.”

“It’s kind of complicated, but the simplest explanation is that they’re all… that.” Jon points to dead, clothed Elias, blood pooling under his head from where it was leaking from his eyes. “Beholding doesn’t have enough power to save him, in part because we’re not in its world anymore, and in part because I used a lot of power to reset this.”

“How?”

“That’s extremely complicated, and we really don’t have time.” Jon takes a deep breath. “This is the part where we both survive, but not together.”

Martin takes a moment to catch up. “Elias was alone down here, with Jonah’s body.”

“Yes. You and Peter are in The Lonely. And I’m about to run in here looking for you.”

Martin smiles. “My hero.”

The look Jon shoots him, of fond exasperation, is worth the brief interruption. “Indeed.” His expression turns pained. “I’m going to miss you _so much_.” Martin takes a step forward, but Jon shakes himself. “No, I… we need to do this. This world’s Martin is lost in The Lonely. This world’s Jon is coming to save him. And if we let them, Elias will win. One way or another, this world’s Jon will read that statement and The Eye will ascend. You need to be there to stop him.”

“What about you?”

“What do you think?” Jon smiles, weakly. “I’m going to save Martin.” He makes a small do-do-do-do sound, like a superhero, and Martin gives a bark of laughter that turns into a sob.

“It won’t be the same.”

“I really think you’re getting the better end of the deal. Your new Jon won’t be a serial killer who chipped away at his humanity until he felt safest in the centre of a world-ending catastrophe. And you’ll love him.”

Martin doesn’t want that Jon. Or, rather, he does, but not at the price of this Jon. “And you?”

“I’m the avatar of Beholding now. I’ve taken Elias’s place, and I’m taking myself off the board. If Elias’s… if Jonah’s theories are correct, any individual Entity’s ritual is doomed to failure, so all you have to do is keep the fatalities to a minimum and keep your Jon from ending the world. Easy.”

“Yeah. Easy.” Martin frowns. “Hey, aren’t there a bunch of murderers and stuff running around?”

“Helen and not-Sasha are gone. When I removed them in our world, I erased them from this one as well. That leaves mostly Julia and Trevor, and Daisy and Basira have that under control. Getting Daisy back under control will be its own problem, but the world isn’t perfect.”

“Maybe not, but it’s better than it could be.”

“That’s for sure.”

There’s an awkward pause. Then Martin’s not sure who moves first, but Jon’s suddenly in his arms, and they’re embracing fiercely.

“No one will understand what you’ve been through,” Jon whispers against Martin’s ear. “It’ll be lonely, but you’re used to that.”

“Take care of yourself. Don’t let the… the other me wander too far. Come back if you can’t stand it.”

“I’ll be fine. I know enough to give him space and be patient. I won’t make the same mistakes with him that I made with you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

A kiss and a final embrace, and then Jon steps back once, twice, and is gone.

No more than two or three minutes pass before Jon runs in, breathless and terrified.

He looks… young. His hair is still greying, and physically he looks the same, but his eyes are filled with fear and uncertainty, and Martin can’t remember the last time Jon looked like that.

He sees Martin standing over Elias’s body, stops, and stares. Martin waves.

“Did… did you do this?”

Martin smiles weakly. “Actually. You did.” Jon looks stunned.

“Helen and not-Sasha are taken care of,” Martin says. “Peter’s in The Lonely, and Elias is… a long story.” The caretaker in Martin surges up, insisting that they take Jon away and wrap him in blankets and feed him tea and keep him safe. Martin hasn’t really been able to care for Jon properly since Jon became a demi-god, so this impulse is… nice. “Hey. Run away with me to Scotland and I’ll give you my statement.” Something clicks, and Martin realizes. “Actually, I’ll give you enough statements to keep you sated for years.”

Jon looks adorably flustered. “Wh-what…”

Jon would realize soon enough that this Martin wasn’t really his. That his Martin had been left in The Lonely, with Martin’s Jon. There’d be hell to pay that day, but Martin is confident he could weather it, because Jon had been right.

He loves this Jon as much as he loves his own. And he isn’t willing to let him become his Jon, not because he didn’t love his Jon, but because his Jon would have given anything to take a different path.

_Had_ given anything to take a different path.

And Martin is convinced that, as much as Jon was determined not to make the same mistakes, Martin can start again and avoid his own mistakes.

And make brand new ones.

He reaches out his hand and Jon, who loves and trusts him, takes it.


End file.
